


Heaven and Earth

by Kat_Rowe



Series: Who Needs Heaven (when we have each other)? [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Bed-sharing, Demisexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Half-naked Cuddling, Kissing, M/M, Relationship Discussions, Slow Build, Walks In The Woods, Wingfic, no sex but they still consider themselves lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23670421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Rowe/pseuds/Kat_Rowe
Summary: After an evening of grooming, Crowley invites Aziraphale on a walk in the woods. The two share an afternoon of discussion and intimacy, and agree to take their relationship to the next level.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Who Needs Heaven (when we have each other)? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657927
Comments: 45
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Vicky for the beta-work and encouragement. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Crowley had beautiful wings. Aziraphale had noticed that far earlier than had been appropriate, and spent the next several millennia trying to ignore it. Only really black from any distance, or to those lacking an angelic level of visual acuity, they were actually multi-colored, the hues so dark and rich that they combined to give the impression of solid, shimmering black. But, this close, as he gently preened his friend’s feathers, he was treated to the full, splendid variety: impossibly deep greens and purples, and blues so dark that they put the term ‘midnight’ to shame.

Having one of those dark, iridescent feathers tucked away somewhere safe was lovely, to be sure, but it didn’t entirely keep him from sometimes wanting to press his face into his friend’s wings, to just drink in his heat and his scent and revel in the sheer _license_ of being allowed to finally do this.

He smiled to himself as he worked, grateful. It felt good to admit certain simple truths to himself. Crowley was beautiful. Crowley was his friend. Being close to Crowley, receiving the former demon in his bedroom and doing small favors for him, felt good. Not too long ago, the open admission of such things would have landed them both in serious trouble. Thinking them still felt like an act of defiance, but he’d come to appreciate that particular virtue. 

“What are you smirking at?” Crowley asked. With his back to the angel, he couldn’t possibly have seen his expression, not any more than Aziraphale could see his playful grin. But it didn’t stop them from knowing, in that way unique to angels. And to people who had spent thousands of years together. 

“I’m not smirking. I’m just happy.”

“Why?”

“Why not? It’s a beautiful day, and I’m with my best friend.” 

Crowley made a thoughtful noise, then shrugged. He was silent for a moment, then told Aziraphale, “I heard from Book Girl the other day.” 

“Oh? How are she and young Newton?” he asked, smile widening.

“Quite well, she says, not that I was paying much attention.”

“No, of course you weren’t,” he chuckled, shaking his head tolerantly. “I imagine they’ll be celebrating the autumn equinox soon.” Crowley made a disinterested noise, but Aziraphale pushed on. One of these days, he would get his friend to take an interest in human affairs. Or, at least, in the affairs of some humans. “It’s a religious occasion for some people. I attended a pagan harvest festival once, decades ago. Quite a rowdy affair.”

He trailed off after that, blushing and deciding to spare the details. It probably hadn’t been the best subject to bring up; perhaps a bit too licentious while they were both only half-dressed. He could feel the amusement pouring off of Crowley, but he was kind enough not to tease. They finished the grooming session in comfortable silence, then pulled their shirts back on and headed into the living room. 

It had become something of a routine for them since the first time, and happened far more often than could possibly be justified by genuine need. At least once or twice a week now, one or the other would propose a grooming session. They’d take it in turns, then relax over drinks afterwards.

He sometimes felt guilty: for indulging so often, and for enjoying it so much. How could he fail to enjoy it, though? Even if it hadn’t felt so good and been so undeniably sensual, there was an intimacy to the act that they both needed badly. Really, who needed Heaven when they had each other?

“You’re thoughtful tonight,” Crowley noted after they had silently worked their way through the better part of a bottle of wine. “Everything all right?”

“Of course it is,” he answered, not sure how to articulate the increasing sense that things between the two of them had changed profoundly, but in ways he couldn’t describe. He adored it, whatever it was, but his inability to put it into words was vaguely troubling. 

Crowley eyed him thoughtfully for a long moment, then gave a little nod. It was one of the blessings, and sometimes one of the curses, of angelic heritage. Whether you wanted to or not, you always had a general idea of how those around you were feeling. So, of course, Crowley knew that, despite having a lot on his mind, there was nothing really _wrong_. 

Except perhaps for Aziraphale’s odd urge to hug the former angel and ask him to spend the night again, as he had that first night. 

He tried to force his mind onto another track. Any track at all, so long as it had nothing to do with the physical pleasures of grooming his friend, or with how badly he never wanted to say goodbye to him again.

“The weather’s been lovely lately,” he noted, resisting the urge to cringe at his lack of originality..

“Almost as lovely as the weather in Tadfield,” Crowley agreed. 

“Yes, I’ve heard the weather there is still unusually seasonal. Should we worry?” he asked, frowning a little.

“Oh, I don’t think so. We can probably just put it down to childhood nostalgia and forget about it.”

“I hope you’re right.” 

“Of course I am, angel. Still, if you doubt me, we can always do a bit of reconnaissance.” 

It seemed an odd suggestion to offer during a conversation about the _weather_. “Reconnaissance?” he repeated, double-checking the level of alcohol in their bottle. 

“Yes, you know. We’ll wander around outside and make sure nothing unusual is happening, occurring, or otherwise going on.”

“You mean… a nature walk?” 

“Nah,” Crowley scoffed with a grin and a negligent wave of his hand. “Reconnaissance. To make sure there’s nothing strange about all this gorgeous weather.” 

“Ah, I see. Where?” 

“Near Tadfield, of course. Do try to keep up, angel.”

“You want to… spend a day walking around the Oxfordshire countryside?” 

“You’re the one who thought there might be something suspicious going on,” he pointed out, picking up the bottle after the second try and refilling their glasses with only a few minor spills which he instantly miracled away.

Aziraphale was about to protest that it had been a minor, passing thought, then he saw the playful glint in those citrine eyes and relaxed. A leisurely walk, in a beautiful part of the country, in extraordinary weather, with his best friend. Why not? “All right. We can go tomorrow.” 

Crowley blinked, as if he hadn’t quite expected his friend to rise to the bait, then he shrugged and smiled. “All right. We’ll go tomorrow. One condition, though,” he added, waggling a finger.

“Oh? And what would that be?” he asked, smiling. Crowley’s ‘conditions’ for things lately, had been… interesting. 

“Lose the suit.”

“What?” Aziraphale choked, sputtering and deciding he’d had far too much to drink since the fallen angel couldn’t possibly have meant… _that_!

“You can’t traipse around the countryside in a suit and dress shoes. You’ll need to wear proper clothes.”

“Oh,” he answered, clearing his throat and giving himself a little shake. “You’re right, of course.” 

“You do own other clothes, right?” Crowley asked, giving him a curious stare.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I own other clothes. What kind of question is that?”

“Clothes fit for off-trail hiking?” 

“I have one or two things lying around that might work,” he answered, shocked by the ease with which the half-truth passed his lips. They ‘might’ work, but of course they almost certainly would not. He’d have to do something about that before morning. “Do I own other clothes? What kind of question is that?” he repeated primly, squirming.

“Stop being fussy, angel,” he advised with a warm smile. Then he climbed lazily to his feet, smiling down at Aziraphale. “I should really go. It’s been days since I discussed things with my houseplants. Can’t have them getting complacent on me.” 

“You know, you could try being _nice_ to them for once.”

“But why change what already works?” he countered, winking. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

“I’ll be ready bright and early,” Aziraphale promised, climbing to his feet to see his friend to the door. 


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t take Aziraphale long to find an open store that carried appropriate clothing. After all, just because it was past midnight in London didn’t mean it wasn’t the middle of the day _somewhere_. British Columbia, with its mountains, forests, and beaches, had hundreds of stores catering to campers, hikers, and the like. 

The one he settled on was staffed by an incredibly sunburned and muscular young lady who looked like she would have been happier if civilization had never been invented. She was friendly enough, but something in her personality made him think that, if she’d had her pick of profession, viking or explorer would have been closer to the top of the list than customer service. But she was helpful and knowledgeable, and Aziraphale was soon back in the flat above his bookstore, removing tags from his new clothes, and inventorying his emergency kit. 

He understood that the jeans and boots were a necessity, but he wasn’t sure about the shirt, despite the young woman’s insistence that it was perfect for autumn hiking, and that he looked absolutely adorable in it. It was very flannel, and very plaid. He’d drawn his line at black and red, mostly on the grounds that he was not a lumberjack. She’d had him try a few on, and finally declared that the one in complementary shades of blue brought out his eyes wonderfully. When he’d been reluctant to concede, she’d dragged over several coworkers to assure him that he looked just fine. Still, it was plaid flannel, and he’d have to wear it while facing Crowley soon…

At least the boots were comfortable, even if he would never be caught dead in them in any other context. At least he’d be prepared if they ran into any bugs the size of small dogs that needed crushing. Not that he’d ever stepped on a bug in his life, terrier-sized or otherwise, but the boots looked purpose-designed for such a task. He tried not to reflect on what it said about the nature of reality that he personally knew at least one Hellhound who would have kept a respectful distance from these boots.

Shaking his head, he laid the clothes and equipment out neatly, doing his best not to think about Crowley’s reaction to seeing him in such absurd garb. At least his friend’s teasing was never genuinely mean-spirited. And, considering that he’d only bought the clothes at Crowley’s insistence, it stood to reason that the former angel would be similarly attired. Which was an odd mental image, to say the least. 

But he could worry about all that in the morning when Crowley picked him up. He didn’t _need_ to sleep, but he did quite enjoy it and, with several hours left until dawn, there was really no better time to squeeze in a few hours. It would help him relax, and make the hike that much more enjoyable.

Climbing under his soft, heavy quilts, he found himself wondering what his friend was doing. He couldn’t be yelling at plants all night, surely? Was he, too, in bed? Crowley had, after all, been indulging in sleep much more frequently since the night he’d fallen asleep in this bed a few weeks ago. After years of being too nervous to sleep at all, it was good to see Crowley finally starting to relax and enjoy the simple pleasures again. Pleasures like a good night’s sleep.

And then, unbidden, he found himself wondering two things about the time his friend was probably spending in that massive bed of his. Was Crowley lonely? Was he _alone_? 

Gasping at his own… presumption, or whatever the Hell it was, he shook his head, forcefully pushing those thoughts aside and willing himself to sleep.

~~~~~

His sleep was dreamless, but not restful. The sound of fists banging on the front door, loudly but without urgency, pulled him from his slumber, and he found himself more exhausted than he would have been if he hadn’t slept at all. Sighing and calling for Crowley to let himself in and help himself to the kitchen, he climbed from his bed and stumbled into the bathroom. 

He could hear Crowley moving around in the kitchen as he brushed his teeth and went through the other little routines that were not strictly necessary for an angel, but did make for a soothing morning ritual. The smell of coffee caught his attention, and he hurried into the kitchen without bothering to dress first. 

“That smells divine,” he told Crowley, belting his dressing gown as he entered the kitchen. 

“Nectar of the gods,” his friend agreed, smirking and passing him a cup. His smile faded almost instantly as he studied Aziraphale’s face. “Are you okay? You look terrible.”

“I’ll be fine once I’ve woken up properly. I don’t know why but, for some reason, I didn’t sleep well.”

Frowning a little, Crowley stepped closer, “Maybe we should postpone our walk?” 

“No. No, there’s no need for that. I’m fine, really,” Aziraphale assured him, smiling and sipping his coffee. Considering that angels couldn’t become ill, or even genuinely exhausted, his friend’s concern was pointless, but gratifying. “Have you eaten yet? Are you hungry?” 

“It’s early yet. I was thinking we could find a nice little place to eat on our drive.” 

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” he admitted, smiling more widely. A few more sips of coffee, and his brain began to clear, not so much because of the caffeine as because he had trained it to do so when he tasted coffee.

He bit his lip as he really took in Crowley’s clothes for the first time. Clearly, the former angel had not resorted to last-minute shopping. The shirt was one of his usual ones, neither casual nor formal, and the boots had probably been part of his Home Guard uniform during the War. Which at least made Aziraphale feel better about his own footwear. The jeans, so tight that they could probably only be gotten into using a shoe-horn or a miracle, were from the late 1970s, when they had been quite popular indeed. He’d seen Crowley in very tight trousers more times than he could count, but these made the others seem downright baggy.

 _“The humans are practically tempting themselves these days,”_ he’d laughed as he slouched through the park at Aziraphale’s side in those jeans. He’d been right, too. He hadn’t been able to wear the things without drawing lingering gazes from men and women alike. They left nothing to the imagination beyond… well, probably the color of certain things. 

“Are those going to be comfortable to hike in?”

“Oh, they’re surprisingly comfortable; Almost miraculously so,” Crowley assured him, grinning and leaning back against the kitchen counter. 

“I’d… I’d better go and, uh, dress,” Aziraphale told him, shaking himself and hurrying from the room.

Unless he was very much mistaken, the... various things that were not left to the imagination had been a bit different in the 1970s. Not that he’d ever paid much attention to that particular area of his friend’s body, beyond noting that things tended to be appropriate to whatever gender Crowley was presenting as at the time. There was really no point in paying attention beyond that. Male or female, Crowley’s body always conformed to expected norms. It was a little startling to realize that the specific details sometimes varied: that it might be a little longer or a little shorter, or a little thicker or thinner, or… so on. 

What was the point in changing something like that?

He did his best to push that from his mind as he got dressed. It was not important, and it was none of his business anyway. Crowley was welcome to any body he chose to adopt, and it was none of Aziraphale’s business if he sometimes made minor cosmetic changes. Really, it was no different than cutting his hair, or letting it curl. 

“Are you weaving your own fabric in there?” Crowley called from the kitchen, making Aziraphale jump and rush to finish his preparations. 


	3. Chapter 3

The day was as beautiful as promised, and the Bentley sped down the almost miraculously empty roads with all the windows open, flooding the countryside with Freddie Mercury’s voice.

Inside, Crowley was teasing Aziraphale over his emergency gear.

“I have seen Arctic Expeditions with worse first aid kits.” 

He bristled a little, aware that the kit was excessive for a day-trip, but unwilling to admit it. Instead, he met his friend’s sniping with some of his own. “Yes, and not being well-equipped ended so well for Mr. Franklin and his people, didn’t it?”

“I doubt any of this would have helped with lead poisoning. Honestly, angel, a bone saw?”

“It was included with the first aid kit. It could come in handy. For something...”

“Name one thing!” Crowley laughed, shaking his head.

“It’s the top-rated first aid kit in North America among serious outdoor enthusiasts.” 

His friend gave him a long look, opened his mouth shut it again, and then lapsed into silence for a few moments before repeating, “North America?”

He bit his lip, resisting the urge to squirm. “I needed clothes. Nothing in London was open.”

“You said you had clothes.”

“I said I might. It turned out I didn’t.”

“So you dropped by North America instead of just miracling yourself a pair of jeans?” Crowley asked, looking bemused. 

He turned his head, looking out the window and shrugging. “I wasn’t sure what to wear. I haven’t been on a long walk since the domestication of horses, and styles have changed.”

“You could have asked me,” his friend pointed out. 

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were yelling at your plants,” he answered, smiling weakly and trying not to feel embarrassed. “It would have been silly.” 

Crowley stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed, then he blinked and shook himself, driving on in silence. “Shall we stop there for breakfast?” he asked, abruptly, pointing to a small restaurant up ahead.

Grateful for the change in subject, though not entirely sure why, Aziraphale nodded eagerly. “Yes, let’s. I’m famished.”

~~~~~

The meal was delicious, and pleasantly filling in that way that didn’t leave one feeling overloaded, but made it obvious that there wouldn’t be a need to eat again any time soon. They spent the rest of their drive in comfortable silence before pulling off into a hilly area with a number of marked trails. 

The carpark was relatively empty when they arrived, which left Aziraphale feeling oddly pleased. Rather than examining that feeling too closely, he hurried over to the sign posted by the trailhead, studying it far more carefully than was remotely necessary.

“Angel, are you coming?” Crowley demanded, giving his shoulder a gentle thump as he walked past him.

“What? Yes. Yes, of course.” Giving himself a shake, he fell into step next to his friend. 

It was a beautiful day, the air brisk but the sun shining brightly down at them. England was, of course, nothing like the Garden, but the countryside was still beautiful, and he felt a bit of fond reminiscence. Birds in the trees and squirrels running through the grass stopped to stare at Crowley and Aziraphale as they passed, as if they’d never seen anything like them before. Of course, it was very likely that they hadn’t actually seen an angel and a reformed demon walking in companionable silence prior to today. 

He smiled at that, miracling a bag of seed into his existence and tossing handfuls as they went. Crowley glanced over, shaking his head with a tolerant smile. For a moment, he thought his friend might tease, then a bag appeared in his hand as well and offerings of nuts were added to those of seeds. 

The squirrels swarmed, and the birds darted down from their trees for a share, resulting in a bit of a free-for-all. 

“Christmas came early,” Crowley noted, not even bothering to hide his slight smile as he watched the chaos. “Of course, the squirrels will bury most of their share and never find it again.”

“Well, that’s part of the natural order. Some of the seeds will grow into plants, and feed more birds and squirrels.”

Crowley made a soft sound of agreement, watching the happy animals for a long moment before resuming their interrupted walk. Aziraphale followed, smiling as he watched his friend. There was a freedom to him lately that hadn’t been on display in thousands of years. It was a pleasant change from the past decade: the doubt and fear; the constant looking over his own shoulder; the awareness of impending doom; the burden of his complicity in it. All that was gone, and it showed.

Now he had a spring in his step, in addition to the usual swagger, and it was amazing. Beautiful the way his eyes were, or like the honest smile that put in an appearance on his face more and more often lately. Of course, everything about Crowley was lovely, even some of the things that probably shouldn’t have seemed that way. It was hardly new information but, after millenia of denying it, even (or maybe especially) to himself, there was a pleasant novelty in letting the fact wash over him. 

It didn’t occur to him to moderate himself, and he must have been thinking a little too vehemently about how much he enjoyed his friend’s company, because Crowley stopped in his tracks, turning to study Aziraphale with an unreadable expression. The angel could feel his cheeks burning, and he did his best to smile innocently. Crowley continued to stare for a little longer, gave a soft huh sound, and kept walking.

“I, uh… I just meant…” Aziraphale began, hurrying after him. 

Crowley shook his head faintly, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s not a big deal, angel. We’re friends. I would hope you enjoy spending time with me.” 

“Well… well, of course I do. I just… was reflecting how nice it is not to have to be secretive,” he explained, biting his lip. Angelic empathy was a double-edged sword: helpful when trying to understand others, a pain in the ass when you didn’t want others to understand you. Or when you didn’t entirely understand yourself...

“You all right, Aziraphale?” Crowley asked as they kept walking. “You’ve been in a strange mood lately.” 

“I’m fine!” he snapped, wincing at his own defensiveness. “Sorry. It’s just that so much has changed so quickly. I suppose I’m still reeling a bit,” he admitted, smiling weakly.

“Oh,” his friend answered, stopping again and turning to face him. Expression turning genuinely sympathetic, he reached up and pulled off his sunglasses, steadily watching Aziraphale with those beautiful eyes of his. “It has been a lot to take. But, if you ever need to talk... Well, the Almighty knows that you’ve spent enough time listening to me rant and whine. I’m here if you ever need a sympathetic ear, all right?” 

Something in the angel’s chest warmed, and he smiled gratefully, allowing himself to enjoy the sensation of staring into those eyes far longer than he’d ever allowed himself to before. “Thank you, Crowley,” he whispered. 

The other man’s smile was fond, and something else that he couldn’t quite place, but found himself wanting to see again soon. Stepping close, the former angel rested a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. His skin was hot, but not unpleasantly so. Being this close was like standing next to a roaring fire after coming inside on a cold day, and Crowley’s hand had the pleasant, warm weight of a blanket. 

Heart fluttering for some reason, he opened his mouth to speak, but found his mind abruptly blank. “Do you, uh…” He trailed off, wetting his dry lips at Crowley’s gently encouraging nod and struggling to find something to fill the awkward silence. “Have you ever been on this trail before?”

Crowley blinked at that, straightening a little and dropping his hand. “What?” he asked, eyes wide but expression unreadable.

“I, uh…” 

“Do I look like a person who hikes often, angel?” he asked, frowning. His emotions were too tightly in check to be easy to read, but they couldn’t have been good ones. “Of course I haven’t been here before. I just thought it looked nice.”

“Well… it is. It’s very nice,” he answered quickly, biting his lip anxiously. “I… I’m glad you suggested it. I’m glad we came.” 

“Good,” he answered, but he was still frowning. “Let’s go, then.”

And, without another word, he stomped up the path, radiating frustration. Aziraphale followed a meter or so behind, wondering what he’d done wrong to ruin the lovely moment.


	4. Chapter 4

The path forked and, without slowing his pace, Crowley took the left branch, heading up a steep incline and not even hesitating when the angel started to lag behind. When he did catch up several minutes later, it was only because the former angel had stopped on a flat area on the side of the woody hill. Aziraphale moved to stand in a pool of shade by the treeline, wishing he hadn’t listened when the girl in the shop had suggested a flannel shirt. It was far too warm, and his discomfort was distracting him from a much bigger issue.

Crowley, still seething, had wrenched a small branch from one of the trees and was tearing off lengths of bark.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale offered tentatively, slowly approaching the former angel.

Crowley was wearing his sunglasses again, but Aziraphale could feel his gaze, boring into him. “I do not understand you sometimes, angel.”

“I don’t always understand myself. Especially lately,” he admitted, grimacing a little. “And… I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, Crowley.”

Crowley took a step back, frown deepening into a scowl. “You don’t…”

“Please. I would obviously never try to upset you.”

“Obviously,” Crowley mocked, sneering a little.

Irritated, Aziraphale snapped, “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m just getting sick of you and your mixed signals!”

“My… What do you…” He trailed off as it suddenly occurred to him precisely what Crowley meant. Inexperience with certain human behaviors didn’t make him ignorant of them, after all. All these recent intimacies, coupled with Aziraphale’s clumsy and fearful vacillations? Without meaning to, he’d been teasing his friend unforgivably. “Oh,” he whispered, stomach twisting.

“Oh?” Crowley repeated, staring.

“I didn’t realize,” he sighed, staring at his feet. “I didn’t know I was… doing that.”

Crowley made a sound that wasn’t quite a hiss, and Aziraphale braced himself for a tirade, but instead the former angel sighed and moved to sit on a large rock outcropping.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, moving to his friend’s side. “You know it wasn’t my intention to cause you any confusion or… distress.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” he sighed, rubbing his face and shaking his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, angel,” he groaned, sighing again. “I just misread the situation.”

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, torn between confusion, doubt, and contrition. Finally, biting his lip and settling down on the rock next to his friend, he told him, “No, I… I’m fairly certain you haven’t actually... misread the situation. At all.”

“You sure about that?” Crowley challenged, but his tone was gentle rather than harsh: a man willing to be reasoned with. A man who wanted an explanation more than he wanted a fight. “The way you’ve been acting.”

“I…” He hesitated, considering his words carefully. The whole situation was so alien. He was an angel, used to knowing immediately how to take care of things. But this was not a situation any angel had ever been forced to deal with before. “My behavior. I know... it has been… erratic,” he began haltingly, clearing his throat. “It has, and I’m sorry for that but… these last few days have been a bit confusing for me, and I’m feeling very wrong-footed.”

“Why?” Crowley asked. “What’s changed? I don’t think I’ve been coming on any stronger than usual.”

“It’s not anything you’ve done that’s the problem.” He sighed, closing his eyes and taking a few slow, deep breaths before continuing. “My thoughts are… I feel like I’m going mad, Crowley.”

The fallen angel considered his words for a moment, then lifted a hand, cupping his cheek in his warm palm. “You’re scared,” he noted. “Confused.”

“Yes. Just lately, I’ve been feeling so many things I haven’t before,” Aziraphale admitted. “It frightens me.”

“The feelings themselves, or the fact that you haven’t felt them before?” Crowley prompted, long fingers caressing the angel’s temple.

Part of him, a small cowardly part, wanted everything to go back to what it had been before, when he’d known, or thought he’d known, where everything stood. But his friend’s tender calm made honesty easier, and far less terrifying. He closed his eyes, leaning into the warm hand against his face for a moment before letting himself speak.

“Caring about you and wanting to spend time with you isn’t new. I value your friendship. I treasure it. And you, of course. But, lately, there’s been… more to it.”

“Lately? Like since we started getting half-naked and playing with each other’s wingtips?”

He squirmed a little at the wording, blatant and almost certainly deliberately suggestive. But, given the intimacy of their grooming, given the way that Crowley had fallen asleep in Aziraphale’s bed that very first night, the innuendo wasn’t entirely amiss, either.

Swallowing hard, he whispered, “We’re free now. We can groom each other or… anything else we want.”

“And what do you want, angel?” Again, the tone was challenging, but not unkind. Faintly demanding, but full of encouragement, too.

He was silent for a long moment then, with an effort of will, he cleared his mind and forced himself to speak without premeditation or self-censorship. “I want you. Us, more of what we’ve had. The grooming, the touching, the being close. I want… for you to feel comfortable falling asleep in my bed while I watch over you. I want…”

He trailed off, once more confused by his own impulses. He was an angel, a being made to love and to serve. Want was not part of his template. It was not a thing angels were meant to feel, not any more than demons were meant to feel love.

At a loss for words, he opened his mind, letting it flood itself with images and memories. Crowley’s hands on his wings. Crowley’s voice teasing him. Crowley’s playful smile. Crowley’s little moans and huffs of encouragement as he allowed a hereditary enemy to thread his fingers through dark feathers. Crowley, unconscious in Aziraphale’s bed, as the angel gathered together the loose feathers from the previous night, forming a black-and-white pile of fluff and plumes. Crowley, sleeping on, blissfully unaware as the angel separated them into two distinct piles, reverently handling each and every one of the former angel’s feathers yet again in a brand of intimacy that no one else could possibly understand.

How did anyone explain the need for all these things, let alone the desire for more? Crowley was mildly empathic, yes, but not enough of a telepath to fully grasp the intricacies of all those mad urges. He must have been feeling nothing more than a confused, needy jumble.

He opened his eyes again, to find his best friend watching him through dark lenses. That, at least, was concrete and immediate. A desire he could readily express that might hint at the deeper, more confusing ones. Smiling shyly, he lifted his hands and slowly took hold of Crowley’s glasses, easing them off that lovely face and revealing those striking eyes.

“I hate when you wear these,” he admitted, setting them aside. “I mean… I know it’s best that you do it in public. But, when it’s just the two of us…”

To his surprise, Crowley smiled until the corners of his eyes crinkled into deep crow’s feet. “The first time we groomed, you called my eyes beautiful.”

“They were. They are. I’ve always thought so. It’s just not the kind of thing an angel can go and admit.”

“Well, maybe you couldn’t then, but you don’t have a home office any more. There are a lot of things you can admit now, if you want. Things you like and don’t like, things you want. We seem to be high on that list. You and I, together.”

“Yes, always. And I’m very sorry if my… uneasiness over that fact made you think that I didn’t want… what I do want.”

Crowley studied him thoughtfully for a moment, then leaned back on one arm, staring up at him. “There are different ways of wanting more of a person in your life. There are different kinds of physical intimacy, too,” he noted.

Aziraphale’s cheeks burned, a recurring theme today, and he let his tongue slip out to wet his dry lips. It didn’t work; his mouth was too dry. “You’re asking if my… desires include sex?”

“Pretty much. And it’s fine if they don’t. It doesn’t mean we can’t be closer, physically, than we are now,” Crowley promised. “I just need to know so I’m not pushing you in a direction you don’t want to go.”

“I’m not sure you could. You know me too well.”

“I like to think I do. Even so, a few boundaries never hurt.”

“I don’t want any,” he blurted out before he could begin to consider the words. At Crowley’s surprised look, he cleared his throat and explained, “Our friendship has always been full of boundaries neither of us ever wanted. I’m sick of it.”

“So am I. But refusing to let others make rules for us doesn’t mean we can’t establish our own.”

Aziraphale smiled shyly down at his friend at those words, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the pleasant physical and emotional warmth of finally having let himself articulate some of his chaotic and unnerving thoughts. And of having them acknowledged, and even embraced.

“Every time I’m near you, I want to be even closer and… when you’re away, I wonder if you’re as lonely as I am. I look at you and I wonder why I never realized how beautiful you are, on the outside, too, and…”

He trailed off, skin warming, and decided that maybe the rest didn’t need to be said. He’d already admitted so much, after all. It was a good start, but he was starting to feel emotionally exhausted. He needed to give his mind and heart a moment to rest.

“You’re still holding back.”

“Not much. Please, I’m sorry. I need time.”

“Then take it,” Crowley directed, smiling up at him. “It’s a beautiful day. Let’s just rest and enjoy it, all right?” he suggested. Expression turning tender, he added, “Together. Let’s enjoy it together.”

“I’d like that. It’s a lovely view,” he added, gesturing vaguely out at the valley beneath them without really looking at it. He was too busy watching his friend’s relaxed face and gorgeous eyes.

“It is a good view,” Crowley teased, smirking up at him. “I can tell you like it.”

“Don’t tease.”

“Me, tease?”

Ignoring his friend’s playfulness, Aziriphale reached down, touching two fingers to the stone beneath them and subtly altering its molecular structure.

“Lay down, Crowley,” he directed once he was done.

His friend frowned, but obeyed, breaking into a wide grin as he reclined fully against a rock surface that was suddenly as soft as any mattress, and twice as capable of absorbing and radiating warmth as any stone. Crowley might not have taken a snake’s form since the Garden, but the habits of your first Earthly form tended to stick with you. The former angel loved a nice round of basking.

“You spoil me, angel!” he laughed, making a happy noise and squirming around a bit before going still and closing his eyes. “Oh, yes. That is perfect!”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Thank you,” Crowley murmured without opening his eyes. “Going to join me?” he added, absently patting the stone next to him.

Making a shy noise, Aziraphale slowly lay back next to him, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of the sun on his skin, and the sound of his friend’s steady breathing next to him. And, of course, the smell Crowley was letting off even more strongly than usual: a strange and wonderful compound of moonbeams, verdant leaves, and the well-worn, well-conditioned leather of a vintage car’s interior.

It was a beautiful scent, infinitely soothing.


	5. Chapter 5

He must have drifted off at some point but, as he woke, he immediately sensed Crowley’s nearby presence: his warmth and scent, and the barely-perceptible empathic bond between them. 

Opening an eye revealed a still-sunny sky overhead. And, as he glanced to his left, he saw Crowley, arms and legs spread wide as he basked on their rock mattress, drinking in the sunshine. 

His friend had stripped off his shirt at some point, and wore only those ridiculously tight jeans as he relaxed next to Aziraphale. A spray of light ginger curls crossed his pale chest, and a bit more hair grew low on his stomach, vanishing into his jeans. He wore a lazy smile and, despite the fact that his eyes were closed, the smile widened as Aziraphale watched him.

His fingers twitched as he watched his friend. He wanted to touch those smiling lips, enjoy the warmth of the skin, familiarize himself with the texture of that hair. It was an urge more physical and instinctual than psychological and rational, and it took some effort to quell. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, biting his lip.

“You’re not bad yourself,” Crowley assured him, opening his eyes and lazily suggesting, “You could come closer.”

He wanted to, wanted to so badly that it left a lingering taste in his mouth, but he shook his head faintly. “It’s too warm.”

Crowley chuckled at that, sitting up. “You’d be cooler without the flannel.”

“I… I don’t have an undershirt…”

“And I’m not wearing my sunglasses.”

Which was a fair point, Aziraphale realized. Crowley hadn’t hesitated to remove that physical barrier between them. Besides, as often as they’d seen each other topless lately, it was ridiculous to be shy about it now. He could have made an argument about not wanting anyone to stumble across them, but that was nonsense. A quick mental survey of the area told him that Crowly had already made some paths appear less inviting, and others more so, creating a large safe-zone. No one was going to randomly stumble across them today. 

Swallowing hard, he began unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off with an anxious smile. His body wasn’t beautiful like Crowley’s, but at least it wasn’t the first time they’d seen each other like this. That would spare them both a great deal of awkwardness, he supposed. Trying not to fidget, he neatly folded the shirt and set it aside before smiling shyly at his friend.

“There. No sunglasses, no shirts.” It was a pointless thing to say, but it at least filled the silence.

“That’s much better,” Crowley answered, rolling his shoulders a few times before his wings erupted into existence. 

Aziraphale gasped, jumping a little and staring at the former angel with wide eyes. They were outside! Secluded, yes, but still in an almost public location.

“Wh...what are you doing?” he whispered, resisting the urge to look around fearfully to make sure they were still alone.

“Just getting comfortable. There’s no one for miles around; no one’s going to see, angel,” he chuckled, slowly spreading his wings wide and giving them a few lazy shakes. It was a beautiful sight: almost indecent considering they were out in the open, but breathtaking.

“A plane could fly over,” he noted uneasily.

“Out here, if it’s flying low and slow enough for the passengers to get a good look at us, they’ll have other things on their minds. Relax,” he advised, leaning back on one elbow and smiling lazily. 

Aziraphale bit his lip, but couldn’t deny the logic of his friend’s words. “Should I…”

“Absolutely, if you like.”

He hesitated for a moment, then willed his wings into existence, blushing a little when he noticed how… appreciative Crowley’s expression was. “What?”

“You have the wings of a Seraph.” 

He blushed worse at that, squirming and looking away. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even have the right number of wings for a Seraph!” 

“Shut up and take the compliment,” Crowley laughed, grinning and resting a hand on the crest of Aziraphale’s left wing. “How do you keep them so muscular when they’re always tucked away?” 

He squirmed worse at that, shrugging and clearing his throat. They’d been touching each other’s wings for weeks now, but this was different. Less intimate. More… carnal wasn’t the word for it, but it somehow managed to feel more physical and immediate than their grooming ever had. It didn’t help that those long, warm fingers, were absently stroking over his feathers, sending little tingles jolting through the sensitive skin underneath. 

“I’m sorry… What were you saying?” he whispered, eyelids fluttering a little despite his efforts to ignore the pleasure of the contact. 

Crowley’s only answer was a chuckle, low and throaty, and a playful smile as he kept caressing.

“You… you’re going to put me to sleep if you keep that up,” he whispered breathlessly. Not that he needed to breathe, but forgetting to do so did tend to show while trying to talk. 

“Angel, I’m pretty sure sleep is not what’s on your mind,” he teased.

“Well… well, no, clearly not,” he admitted, clearing his throat and smiling shyly. “I just meant… it is very soothing. It feels wonderful. I wasn’t expecting it to feel so different.” 

“Well, I’m sure it helps that you’re starting to relax. Come closer?” he suggested, smiling encouragingly. 

“If I come much closer, I’ll practically be in your lap,” he protested with a nervous laugh.

“My lap’s had worse things in it,” he answered with a negligent shrug. Then he looked up at the angel, eyes narrowing slightly. “Have you ever...”

“Well, I’ve held humans in my lap a few times, when they needed comfort. Children, usually. For obvious reasons.” 

“Never cuddled with an adult just because?” he asked, frowning a little.

“No.” He shook his head, shrugging. “Just when they need comfort. It might have given the wrong impression if I’d indulged at other times.”

“Indulged? So you do enjoy it?”

“Of course. I love being close to people I care about. But, well, as I said, I wouldn’t have wanted to give any human friends the wrong impression.” 

“Understandable. I imagine they’d be tripping over themselves if they thought you might be receptive.”

“Don’t tease!” he protested, frowning.

“I wasn’t, Aziraphale. I meant it. You’ve really never noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“Humans like you. Come on. Don’t pretend you’ve never been approached.”

“A few times,” he confessed, squirming uncomfortably. “But they were generally… lost souls that I’d been comforting. They mistook my kindness for something else.”

“You’ve just made my point for me,” Crowley told him, without any particular triumph or pleasure in his voice. “So, now we’ve established that you do enjoy cuddling. Would you like to?”

“Out here?” he asked, instinctively looking around.

“Afraid the Almighty might catch a peek?” 

He bit his lip at that, edging closer and pointing out, “If I’m right, the Almighty approves of you, and it’s not a problem.”

Crowley snorted softly at that, pointing out, “You don’t work for Her any more, Aziraphale. It doesn’t actually matter what She thinks.”

“I may not work for Heaven any more,” he answered, shaking his head, “But that doesn’t change my relationship with our Creator.” Before Crowley could argue, he pointed out, “Whatever you personally think of Her, we only met in the first place because She assigned me to the Eastern Gate. I’m a Principality, not a warrior. There was no reason for Her to assign me, of all angels, to guard duty. It can’t have been a coincidence.” 

He was silent for a long moment, his expression almost thoughtful. Then he snorted and shook his head, smirking at Aziraphale. “Whatever. Are you going to come sit with me or not?”

“To cuddle?” he asked, smiling shyly and edging closer.

“To cuddle. There’s a brave man,” Crowley chuckled, opening his arms and smiling warmly. “Come here, angel.”


	6. Chapter 6

It took a bit of maneuvering, and the miraculous appearance of a rock for them to lean back against, but Aziraphale soon found himself settled between Crowley’s legs, his folded wings wedged comfortably between his back and his friend’s warm chest.

“See? Nice, isn’t it?” Crowley asked, draping an arm over Aziraphale’s shoulder and letting his hand rest lightly on the angel’s chest.

“It’s wonderful,” he sighed happily, closing his eyes and letting his head loll back against his friend’s shoulder. “We should have done this centuries ago…”

“Please, if I’d suggested it centuries ago, you would have run away as fast as you could and not looked back. This was never going to happen until we were very publicly and very officially cut loose.” 

“I know. I was… absolutely terrified before.”

“I remember. The look on your face when I suggested we run off together…”

“I’m sorry. I was an idiot.” 

“No, no you weren’t. They’d have destroyed us both,” Crowley answered, pressing a gentle kiss to Aziraphale’s temple. “You did the smart thing, saying no to me then. If we’d run before everything went down, they would never have stopped hunting us. And, since I’m no more of a warrior than you are, it would have ended horribly for us.” 

“Yes, but… I said terrible things. I hurt you, and I’m sorry.” 

“You were trying to protect me as much as you were trying to protect yourself. I’m not upset.” 

“You were upset then. I didn’t expect you to react so strongly. I didn’t think it would actually hurt you. I… I didn’t know before that how much our friendship meant to you.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot, angel. A blind, willful idiot,” the former angel answered, voice warm and full of fondness.

“I am,” he agreed, blushing and biting his lip.

“But you’re my idiot,” his friend added, planting another kiss to his temple, then one to his cheek.

“I’d rather be your idiot than anyone else’s wise man,” he admitted, then froze, swallowing hard. “I mean…”

“Don’t you dare try to take it back,” Crowley almost purred, breath hot against the side of Aziraphale’s face. “It’s too late now. You want to be mine. You want to belong to me.”

He closed his eyes at that, nodding slowly. “I… I mean… I don’t just want to belong to you. I want us to belong to each other.”

“Good,” came the quiet response, accompanied by the repeated, whispering touch of lips that never quite managed to connect firmly with the skin of Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“That… that tickles!” he gasped, trembling and forgetting to breathe again. It wasn’t merely ticklish. It was downright intoxicating.

“You really haven’t spent much time getting cozy with people before, have you?”

“No, never. There’s only you.”

His friend could, no doubt, have easily found a dozen things in that statement to tease about, but he didn’t. In fact, he did the exact opposite, soothing Aziraphale with, “I know a lot of people consider it scary at first, but we’ll find what works for you. We’ll go as slow as you need, angel.” 

He pressed his lips together tightly for a moment, considering his next words carefully. “It doesn’t bother you? That I’m… completely inexperienced?” 

“It doesn’t bother me, but I’ll admit I’m surprised. I mean, six thousand years among humans is a long time to resist all that temptation.”

“I wasn’t tempted very often,” he admitted, tilting his head a little more so he could look at his friend’s face. “I don’t think I’ve ever found humans as interesting as you have. In that way, I mean.”

Crowley was silent for a moment, expression thoughtful, then he told Aziraphale, “I didn’t realize. You’ve had some very close friendships, and there was that club in Portland Place.” 

He felt himself blushing a little at that. “You knew?”

“Well, I thought I did. You spent so much time there.”

“Not everyone who frequented Molly houses was there for sex,” he pointed out, shrugging. “There were a lot of very confused, very frightened men and boys there, people who just needed a little bit of love and acceptance.” 

“Ever the Ministering Angel, eh?” he asked smiling warmly down at Aziraphale. 

“I offered what I could in terms of friendship and affirmation.” He shrugged. “They were good men, almost without exception. I enjoyed their company. And their lack of prying questions about my personal life.” 

“As much as they enjoyed yours, I’m sure. But I saw the way some of them looked at you.”

He squirmed at that, cheeks burning. “I wasn’t aware you ever observed my time there.”

“Just once or twice. I was… concerned.” 

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly asked, “Do you mean you were jealous?” 

“Maybe a little, but mostly concerned. I mean, it wasn’t a capital offense any more, but you would not have survived several years in prison, even if hard labor hadn’t been involved…” 

“No, probably not.” He hesitated again. “What would you have done? If I had taken a lover?”

“I… would have made very certain that the gentleman in question fully understood the consequences of hurting or exposing you in any way,” he answered, in a tone that made it perfectly clear that violence wouldn’t have been out of the question if Aziraphale had come to some harm. 

“You could have just asked me, you know. If I was seeing anyone.” 

“Is there a good way to ask your best friend if he’s fornicating with a member of another species?” he scoffed, shaking his head.

“I suppose not,” the angel admitted, shrugging. Slowly, he lifted a hand to cover Crowley’s where it rested near his heart. “The Almighty knows I never could find a way to ask you.”

“I wasn’t aware you cared what I did in my free time.”

“I was... sometimes curious,” Aziraphale admitted, “but it’s like you said. How does one go about asking such a question? I mean, I know humans have a remarkably easy time discussing such matters, but I’ve never quite had that same knack.”

“They’re not like us. I mean, I’m very fond of them, but they aren’t like us,” Crowley told him. After a moment, he amended, “We’re sometimes a lot like them, but they’re not usually very much like us.” 

“It’s the mortality, I think,” the angel suggested. “Can you imagine knowing for a fact that you had so little time to do everything? Haste and recklessness would stop being character flaws and start being a necessity.”

“No wonder they can’t imagine the future very well. For them, a hundred years is distant. Can you imagine? And so little time to learn how to properly feel. A human wouldn’t know enduring affection if it walked up and asked to spend eternity together.”

Silence stretched after that statement, Aziraphale considered his friend’s words for several minutes. Finally, he asked, “Would you? Spend eternity with someone? Actual eternity?”

“Well, not with just anyone.” 

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then he turned in his friend’s arms and leaned up to tenderly kiss Crowley.


	7. Chapter 7

It was, all things considered, a good kiss, at least as far as the angel could tell. Passion was something he would have to learn with time and experience, but affection was something he’d been created for, and expressing it using human methods felt natural after so long in a body that was, more or less, human. Crowley gasped as Aziraphale’s arms closed around him, dark wings flaring wide for a moment before relaxing back into their resting position. 

Shifting onto his knees, the angel nuzzled as his lips moved shyly over those of the person he wanted to spend eternity with. He had no clue what he was doing, had never experienced anything remotely close to a kiss of this sort, but there could be nothing more natural than letting his actions bespeak feelings that were beyond words. 

Crowley groaned softly, hands clutching at Aziraphale’s wings with something that felt like desperation. His chest rose and fell rapidly against the angel’s, and his body, normally so loose and free, had become a mass of tense, trembling muscles.

“Are you all right?” Aziraphale whispered, against his lips, lifting his hands to cradle his friend’s face. 

Crowley groaned and nodded, shakily drawing in a slow, deep breath. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. As long as you’re all right.”

“I thought you were the one who was supposed to be feeling overwhelmed,” the former angel snorted, shooting him a mock glare, then smiling fondly. 

“I am feeling overwhelmed. And I’ll cope with that once I’m sure my best friend is okay.”

Crowley stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, then his expression took on some of its usual irreverence. “I hope you’re not this saintly in bed.” 

Aziraphale’s skin flamed at that remark, and he did his best not to squirm as he leaned back slightly. Not distancing himself from the one he loved, just taking a moment to study everything about him. 

“I don’t know how I am in bed,” he pointed out, forcing himself to smile.

Crowley’s sarcasm vanished at his words, eyes widening and face falling a little. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he sighed. “I know I’m an oddity.”

“Don’t call yourself that!” he protested, shaking his head hard. “Damn it, angel!”

He sighed, shifting position again, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He knew Crowley didn’t mean it, but he felt so small in the face of his friend’s superior knowledge and experience. “It’s true. You’ve never... had anyone like me before. Of course I’m odd in comparison.” 

“Don’t use that word,” Crowley insisted, shaking his head violently. “You’re not odd; you’re just not human. You’re an angel. You’re my angel, and no one gets to call you names except me.”

Aziraphale stared in surprise, then had to laugh. It was just such a Crowley thing to say. It was hard to dwell on his own uncertainties and inadequacies when his best friend was being a ridiculous, loving smart-ass. And it felt good to be called his, to be openly acknowledged as Crowley’s. It soothed fears he hadn/t even let himself fully acknowledge yet.

“I am your angel, but I’m not like anyone you’ve been with before, Crowley. We both know that,” he pointed out, biting his lip.

“Yes, because they’ve all been humans interested in a night or two of fun. No long-term plans, no lack of familiarity with sex, and nothing that could even come close to your Grace. Angel, of course you’re different. That’s the point.”

“How can it not bother you? People… they usually take these things so seriously.”

“I’m not some selfish git so careless with my partners that the idea of bedding a virgin involves worries about harming or scaring them. All that matters is that you’re willing and eager. If those two things are true, nothing that happens between us will be anything but pleasant. I don’t fetishize virginity like some people, but it doesn’t scare me, either. Inexperience isn’t the same as fragility or incompetence. When you’re ready for all this, then it’ll happen and it’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Through most of human history, a grown man who’s also a virgin hasn’t been considered a real man,” he noted weakly.

“I’m torn between saying ‘good job you aren’t human, then,’ and ‘what utter fucking nonsense.’ Which do you prefer?”

Aziraphale gave an anxious laugh at that, staring at Crowley with wide eyes and wondering why he’d ever been anxious. It was Crowley. With him, it could only be right. Initially awkward, perhaps, but still a good and beautiful sharing, two souls coming together into something greater and more profound.

“What are you looking at?” the former angel asked him, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m looking at the person I love, Crowley. And thinking how lucky I am to have you.”

“Careful, beautiful. You keep saying things like that and I’m going to deflower you right here on this rock.” 

His breath caught in his throat at that idea, and he pushed down something that wasn’t quite panic. It wasn’t that he at all objected to the idea of being physically enjoyed by his friend, or even that he disliked the idea of it happening outside and under the metaphorical eye of the Almighty. But… There were other considerations, and factors that could complicate everything if things went too far, too soon. 

“Relax,” Crowley suggested, losing none of his playful irreverence. He leaned forward, gently kissing the corner of the angel’s mouth and soothing, “I’m not going to throw you down and shag you senseless when we haven’t even kissed with tongue yet.” 

“I… Thank you. It’s not that I mind, just that I could use time to get used to how very… physical it all is.” 

“Speaking of life’s physical pleasures, can I ask a question?”

Heart in his throat, wondering if Crowley had guessed at a certain something that he lacked, Aziraphale nodded slowly, whispering, “Anything you like. We don’t need to have secrets any more.”

“No. No, we don’t,” the former angel agreed, wings vanishing as he threw himself back against the soft rock. Arms thrown carelessly over his head, he squirmed about a bit until he found what must have been a comfortable position. Then he smiled up at the angel again, his eyes practically glowing with warmth. “You really enjoy a lot of, shall we say, pleasures of the flesh.”

“I suppose I do,” he admitted, biting his lip hard. “Food, drink, music, sunshine, warm baths, the smell of books, the feel of a soft blanket against my skin…”

“Exactly. You love all those things. I can’t think of one of the five human senses that you don’t adore indulging.” 

Clearing his throat, Aziraphale slowly nodded in agreement with that assessment. “Yes. So?”

“So, how did you escape what most humans consider to be the best of physical indulgences?” 

“I told you, Crowley. I’ve just never been emotionally close enough to a human to be interested. Especially not at the risk of succumbing to one more of the Seven Deadly Sins.”

His friend had teased him about his Gluttony and occasional Sloth before. Obviously he saw no need to retread old ground. Instead, closing his eyes, he reached over and rested his hand lightly on Aziraphale’s knee. There didn’t seem to be anything sensual or inviting in the gesture. It really did feel like nothing more than one friend seeking contact with another.

“You said you’ve never been tempted by a human.”

“Or an angel. Or a demon.” 

Crowley’s eyes shot open again, and he stared up at Aziraphale with clear perplexity. “Or a demon? What the Hell does that make me?”

“It makes you… not a demon. A former demon, maybe, but I prefer to think of you as a former angel.” 

“Is there really a difference?”

“When it’s you there is,” he answered honestly, shrugging. “Even in the Garden, meeting you didn’t feel like meeting a demon. I’ve never really thought of you as one, you know. Never once.” 

Crowley opened his eyes again, beaming up at him. “You’re not like the other boys, either. And I like that about you. All of it, even the things you’re afraid might put me off.”

“Honestly?” he asked, feeling surprisingly hopeful at the words even though he hadn’t felt remotely hopeless before.

“Mhmm. Now come lay down,” Crowley directed, catching his hand and tugging gently. “We still have an hour ot two of sunlight left. Let’s enjoy it.”

Making a happy noise, Aziraphale quickly stretched out next to his friend, shyly resting his head on his friend’s chest. “Is this all right?”

“It’s perfect,” Crowley assured him, tangling a hand in the angel’s hair. “Now let’s get some rest.”

It was definitely Sloth, and potentially even Lust, but Aziraphale didn’t care in the least. Sighing with pleasure, he closed his eyes and just enjoyed the sunshine and his friend’s warmth and his amazing scent.


	8. Chapter 8

Crowley’s smell lingered in Aziraphale’s nostrils, even as they drove back to London, as if it had worked its way into the angel’s own skin. It was an intoxicating compound, as it always had been, but it had changed, too. Once, the smoky element of his scent had contained just a whiff of sulfur, not overpowering or repulsive, but undeniable. Now, the former angel smelled of nothing so much as good clean woodsmoke. Burning applewood, unless Aziraphale was much mistaken. Bloody applewood! It made him want to laugh. Instead, he settled for pressing his face into Crowley’s shoulder a few blocks from the bookstore, and keeping it there until they arrived.

He stayed like that for a few more moments as Crowley parked, then straightened. “Will you come upstairs?”

“Got any good scotch?”

“Silly question,” he answered as he slid out of the car and led his friend inside and upstairs. As he let them into the flat, he asked, “Crowley?”

“Yeah?” he asked, stepping past him and heading straight for the liquor cabinet.

“Will you stay the night?”

He turned to face the angel, face lit with a warm smile. “I’d love to.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, clearing his throat and chuckling shyly. “I was about to ask if you needed anything to wear,” he admitted.

“Pyjamas might not be terrible tonight,” he answered, filling two tumblers with scotch and adding ice. Because, of course, he knew his way around the flat and had no problem making himself at home. “Slow and steady wins the race, after all.”

“Yes, but I imagine you can just miracle up your own favorites instead of needing to borrow from me.”

Crowley studied him for a moment before walking over and handing him one of the drinks. “Angel, I have to ask, what do you imagine my favorite thing to wear to bed is?”

“Probably not much at all,” he admitted, squirming and looking away. It was Crowley, after all. When one pictured him relaxing in bed, one actually pictured him striking a dramatic and provocative pose while wearing just enough to not be entirely R-rated.

He snorted softly at that, touching his glass to Aziraphale’s. “I’ll go put something on in a few minutes,” he promised, smiling gently and moving over to the sofa.

Aziraphale followed, wondering if his favorite white, ankle-length linen nightshirt was too stereotypically angelic. Maybe not, but almost certainly far too dated to be appealing to anyone. Which would probably be just as well until he managed to sort out a few personal details. As for what his friend wore, he found himself picturing red silk sleep trousers, or possibly just barely-existent pants. He spent a moment concentrating on the idea, trying to let the image alone excite him. It didn’t, but he still quite enjoyed the idea of seeing Crowley in his bed again, sprawled lazily there and wearing a drowsy half-smile meant for Aziraphale and Aziraphale alone.

It was that last thought, the smile and the emotions behind it, that stirred something inside him. A warmth settled in his chest, and a sort of heavy tingling made itself known somewhere south of there. It wasn’t arousal, per se, but it was pleasantly exciting and came with plenty of anticipation. Smiling, he sipped his drink, comfortably silent as he just enjoyed his best friend’s presence, and the knowledge that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Penny for your thoughts, angel?”

Aziraphale looked up in surprise at the sudden words, biting his lip and considering. “I’m not sure I’m actually thinking much. I’m just feeling very happy that you’re here.”

“And I’m very happy to be here,” he answered. “Can I ask a personal question?”

“Of course,” he answered, nodding slowly and trying not to feel nervous. After all, personal questions and honest answers were an important part of any romantic relationship.

“How long have you known that I wanted you?”

He froze at that, then shook himself and set the glass down. “I didn’t know that you meant it seriously until we were trying to find Adam. Before that, I suppose I just felt you would find it… diverting.”

“Ouch. That must have been insulting, you thinking that I just wanted you for a little bit of fun?”

“I didn’t like how it felt,” he admitted, shrugging and staring down at his hands. “It wasn’t that I minded your stray mental images or impulses. Humans have those all the time, too. I’m used to sensing and ignoring them, I suppose. But the idea that you might only want me in the moment, in passing, once…”

“So every stray thought I had just made it hurt worse for you?”

“I remember, that night in Soho, when I gave you the Holy water,” he began, then trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Crowley was silent for a moment, then he set his glass down and gently took one of Aziraphale’s hands in both of his. “I wanted to take you to bed that night, but only because you were in so much pain. I wanted so badly to take it all away, to just distract you and make you feel good, happy, for a little while. To hold you and comfort you.”

“I thought… It occurred to me that you might consider it a… a valid form of repayment.”

“That’s a hell of a way to pay a man for a thermos of water!”

“You… I didn’t understand your desire. I didn’t realize what it truly was. It made me feel sick inside that you might want to… to give me... that, in exchange for something that could get you killed.”

Crowley bit his lip at Aziraphale’s words, lifting a hand to gently cup his cheek. “You know better now, though, right? I don’t want a moment with you, or an experience. I don’t want one night, or a couple days. I want eternity.”

“Me, too,” he admitted, smiling shyly. “We were here when this Earth was formed, and we’ll probably be here long after it’s gone. I’d like it if we were here together.”

The former angel smiled warmly, leaning in to gently kiss the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth. Then he whispered against his cheek, “And, after the sun swallows up this planet, then will you run away with me?”

“Now that I understand, I’d run away with you right this instant if you asked. Any planet you like.”

“I like Earth. This is where it started. You, and me, and a cloudy day. Remember?”

“As if I could forget.”

He smiled at that, then grew serious. “If I’d offered myself to you in the Garden, Aziraphale, before sex involved any moral considerations, would you have accepted?”

He blushed, hesitating a moment before nodding and admitting, “Gladly. It was so uncomplicated in the Garden. I remember watching Adam and Eve and thinking how beautiful and innocent it all was.” He fell silent again, then sighed and asked, “Do you think it can be like that for us? Uncomplicated? Innocent?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Aziraphale, I’ve loved you for thousands of years. Even if it does end up being complicated, I’m not sure how an honest expression of six millennia of affection and devotion could possibly be sinful.”

“I’m terrified,” he admitted quietly, squeezing Crowley’s hand. “But I can’t think of anything that I want more than… to be One with you.”

“Come to bed?” he urged. “I think it might be a bit early for anything much, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t enjoy each other’s company tonight. It’s nice, being close to someone you care about. How does the Bible put it?”

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for his love is better than wine…” the angel provided, smiling shyly. “My beloved is mine, and I am his.”

Crowley chuckled and nodded, then glanced down at Aziraphale. “One finds oneself wondering how an entire book of erotica made it into the Bible.”

“I… I wouldn’t know,” he lied, clearing his throat.

“No. No, of course not. Come to bed, angel,” he directed, climbing to his feet and offering his hands.

Smiling shyly, Aziraphale slid his fingers through his friend’s and let himself be drawn into the bedroom.


End file.
